Andromeda's Rebel Read online

  Either he learned to issue threats from Yohzad, or this was a common warning this far out on Andromeda's edge. Two days out of cryo, and threatened twice by two men she was supposed to trust. That had to be a record somewhere.

  “What the hell? Lock the attitude down, Blayde. I haven’t done a thing to deserve it.“ Arms crossing beneath her breasts, Tamarja leaned back in her seat, vowing to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the trip. A few minutes later, Facility Prime and Habitat Prime towered over them.

  The floater slowed, circling around the base of the building before a platform extended next to the side of the larger building sitting in the shadow of the sun.

  Blayde maneuvered the vehicle until it entered a parking lift. The altitude controls emitted a quiet hiss as they touched down on the platform that in turn descended below the surface. Regretfully, Tamarja watched the grasslands disappear. Once the lift stopped, a large archway churned, its joints grinding as it swept over the floater, searching, Tamarja assumed, for nonregistered weapons or explosives. Typical Manitac paranoia? Or something else?

  With the scan complete, the platform lowered one more level, and two other security guards approached the floater from opposite sides. The passenger-side guard motioned for Tamarja to deactivate her view pane. Fumbling for a second, she finally found the dashboard icon and flicked her stylus at it. The view pane dissolved.

  "Identification, please." The guard shoved a small black screen through the opening.

  Tamarja heard the other guard making the same demand of Blayde. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Blayde pass his left index finger over the same type of screen. She had to shuffle through the contents of her satchel, looking for the ID chip Yohzad had given her.

  Yohzad had promised no one would know of her prisoner status, but she still couldn't stop the niggling bite of apprehension as she waited for the guard to assess her ID. Finally, he discharged the chip and handed it back to her, his nod the only indication she had cleared the check.

  Blayde, already finished with his check, reactivated the floater, and they shifted forward into the brightly lit tunnel.

  "We're almost there," he said, his tone oddly reassuring. Maybe he saw that she needed reassurance? She had a funny feeling he knew what was going on around him at all times, including her facial expressions.

  He parked the floater at the end of another long line of security floaters and surprised her with an offer to take her satchel. She'd carried it this far, so she waved his hand away. At the far end of the garage, Daeven activated a compressor gate, motioning her to step through first.

  On the other side, Tamarja found herself surrounded by colors, delicate music, and a fresh scent. She didn't know where to look first. An atrium stretched overhead, a small garden with creeping stalks winding their slim branches along trellises reaching up at least two stories to its domed ceiling. This display, however, didn't compare to the view outside. A forest of flowers bloomed in concert, as the spray of a fountain created a rainbow that danced overhead.

  This is my new home.

  Or at least it was for the next forty years. Once her sentence was complete, who knew where she'd wind up? Maybe she could stay here. At this moment, her lonely heart craved that more than anything else in the galaxy.

  "Can I help you?"

  Tamarja turned away from the picturesque view to face the young woman who had approached them. Blayde stayed behind her, letting her take the lead.

  "Yes, I'm Tamarja Chase." She held out her hand, which the hostess shook with a firm grip. "You should be expecting me."

  The young woman nodded, her bright-red ponytail bobbing up and down. "We are, Captain Chase. Welcome to Facility Prime. I'm Jita Tessier, and I'll be your habitat consultant. If you would just answer our survey, we can register you and better serve your needs."

  Jita handed Tamarja a new ear jack, which she hooked around her right ear. With her stylus, she activated the device to receive the form Jita transmitted and began the registration procedure.

  "I need a favor," Blayde said, as Tamarja started working on the survey.

  "Anything for you. What do you need?"

  "A brown-backed nutter tried to eat my floater. Gave Chase quite a welcome."

  "Oh, no." Jita giggled behind her hand. "It's mating season, so they're becoming more aggressive. It shouldn't last much longer."

  "Could you arrange for maintenance to clean the floater? The view panes are covered in slobber."

  The hostess nodded, already using her own stylus to create the order through her head-up display. "I'll make the arrangements right now."

  For a moment, Tamarja saw Blayde's sharp features relax and reveal a glimpse of the joy she had briefly witnessed back on Jarvis Station—a delight that had disappeared when he appeared to remember who she was.

  "Thanks."

  "Are you still taking your meals in your room?"

  "Yes, ma'am. You know how security is—an endless stream of reports."

  He sounded amused by the question. Amusement just didn't seem to fit with Blayde's personality.

  "That's not healthy." Jita giggled again, not serious at all. "You should go mingle in the dining hall. They're serving your favorite dessert today—cream pie flavored with local berries. Levona wanted me to make sure you knew that. She worries about you, you know."

  Blayde gave Jita a mock look of suspicion. "Which local berry? The green ones, the orange ones, or the purple ones?"

  "Whichever one isn't poisonous, that I know for sure.“

  Daeven laughed with her. "I wish they would name the damn things so we'd know what we were eating."

  Blayde must have filled out the same survey when he first started working here. The intake questions were very comprehensive. How else would a hostess know what his favorite dessert was? Still, she could sense a little bit of a wiggle around her heart. Blayde might not like her much, but he was still her escort.

  Tamarja took a deep breath, even as her stomach tingled. Hunger, that's all it is, just hunger, not jealousy. Not. At. All. She hadn't eaten all day and had only that one drink on Jarvis. Of course her stomach would rumble as Daeven and Jita continued to flirt.

  Not that she could blame him. The cream-colored skirt and blouse that served as Jita's uniform didn't hide her generous figure. The dusting of freckles across her nose added to her bubbly appeal. Next to Jita, Tamarja felt like an old stick stripped of its bark.

  Oh, c’mon, Chase. You were defrosted only two days ago after two years of forced training under the thumb of some very ugly guards. It’s no wonder you’re falling for every man you meet. But how was it possible for her to miss male companionship so much? How she could miss something she couldn’t remember? She had no idea why, but she did.

  She finished the survey and transmitted it back. Jita gave it a quick once-over and then lowered her display to give Blayde a jaunty salute.

  "Thanks for the delivery. I'll take it from here."

  Blayde touched his forehead in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to Tamarja. Daeven the flirt disappeared, replaced by pure professional Security Officer Blayde. "There are security nodes all over the building. If you find yourself in trouble, or think there's about to be trouble, use them. Don't hesitate. Jita will show you how to activate one."

  "Thank you, Officer Blayde. I appreciate the warning."

  "Daeven. You may call me Daeven." He gave her a sharp nod before turning on his heel and disappearing into the lift.

  "Don't let him scare you." Jita took Tamarja's arm and tugged her toward a set of soft chairs near the garden. "While I won't try to convince you that there's never any trouble in the Habitat—people are people, after all—trouble is rare. And security is always watching. They're really good about keeping things under control."

  Tamarja's stomach rumbled again. This time there was no mistaking her hunger for jealousy.

  "It doesn't sound like your last assignment fed you very well." Jita pulled up her data prompt a
gain. "We'll fix that. I'll take you to your room first and get you settled. Habitat Prime is the building next door, but there's no direct entrance, not even a compressor gate. Everyone has to pass through Facility Prime first. You're scheduled to meet with the director first thing in the morning. I'll have a hot meal delivered to your room so you can get to bed early."

  "Sounds heavenly."

  "But only for tonight!" Jita playfully shook her finger. "After that, you really should go to the dining hall and start mingling with your colleagues. Room service makes it too easy to turn into a hermit."

  Room service? Tamarja shook her head as she followed Jita past the security entrance separating Facility Prime from Habitat Prime. On Bregarlos, food had been used to keep her under control. Two meals a day, and she only got what she was served. No more, no less, no exceptions. She'd gotten used to eating less. Eating whenever she wanted would take some getting used to.

  She listened as Jita chirped in her ear, letting the other woman's voice lull her into a sense of contentment. Tomorrow, she would meet the director. She would work hard. For tonight, if only for tonight, she could pretend this was home, not just a gilded cage she'd been sentenced to.

  Tomorrow her life would start over again.

  Chapter Six

  Count to three, breathe deep, then start again.

  Tamarja unraveled her fingers from the intricate knob she'd tried weaving her curls into at the base of her skull, hoping for a more professional look that would also cover the pinpoint nubs of her poisoned leash. She hummed along with the song playing over the broadcast ‘net to ease her frustration. The bun held for all of two seconds, and then her curls escaped their confinement again.

  She glanced at the timer beside the wet room mirror and abandoned her effort. Her impending meeting with the director had her tied up in almost as many knots as her hair. If she didn't leave now, she'd be late, and she wanted to make a good impression. No matter if Yohzad had bent a few rules to give her this opportunity, the director could dismiss her with a snap of her fingers if Tamarja gave her a reason. Then she would find herself back in a cryo nest for who knew how long, most likely forgotten this time.

  She quickly fluffed her curls back into place as she left the wet room and snatched her ear jack. Forgetting her hair, Tamarja smiled as she ran her fingers along the lovely soft-sided brown luggage engraved with the AuRaKaz emblem. Jita had requisitioned it for her the day before.

  The director sometimes requires flights to the shore or to our production warehouses. She's often there for days. You'll need something nicer than that satchel of yours for escorting her, she had told her.

  She was grateful for Jita's forethought, and the new case fit better than the old Manitac satchel she'd hauled out of storage on Bregarlos. This one molded to her hand perfectly and had grav-resistance capabilities. It looked professional and made her feel as if she belonged.

  After triple-checking her new uniform, Tamarja turned off the music. Setting the code to lock her room, she hurried toward the compressor window on her floor. Another benefit to contract work was that she no longer had to wear the ugly gray Manitac uniform. Flight crews on Dawn's Landing wore hunter-green trousers and flight jackets with their rank displayed on epaulets, gold stripes against the same green background. Yohzad must have notified hospitality of her size, because she found three sets of uniforms hanging in her closet.

  She stepped through to the director's suite with half a minute to spare. "I'm to report to the director," she said to the receptionist sitting primly behind her desk.

  The woman acknowledged Tamarja with a tight smile as her stylus swiftly activated the communication system, taking another comm. With a tilt to her head, she pointed toward the office located in the corner of the suite and indicated that Tamarja should enter. Nodding her thanks, Tamarja left the woman to her busy switchboard. The door dissolved, and Tamarja stepped inside.

  Sunlight spilled over the entire room, painting beauty through the view panes. Though the view panes muted the sunlight, Tamarja still squinted against the brightness until her eyes adjusted to the sun's rising. When she could see again, she noticed the luxury of the office—a finely polished real wood desk; matching shelves filled with printed books, a rarity even on Bregarlos; several plush chairs that would dwarf her backside if she sat in one of them; and an aquarium with colorful gills with long silky fins stroking the coral along the tank’s bottom, their bulbous eyes blinking against the streaming water as they swam idly by.

  Passing the disinterested gills, Tamarja approached the two women who stood in front of the view pane, watching the sun and ignoring her.

  She delicately cleared her throat, wondering if there was some sort of protocol for addressing the director of AuRaKaz. She didn't need to guess which one was the director. She'd seen tri-d images of Aura Kazamitiru, but images didn't do justice to the woman dressed in a shimmering cape that seemed to change colors as the sun sifted through the fabric, flattering the flowing skirt and blouse underneath. Her long red-gold hair fell down her back. She held a long-stemmed glass filled with an amber liquid in one hand. As the director turned to face the newcomer, her green eyes pinned Tamarja in place.

  "I am Tamarja Chase," Tamarja said with a slight bow, hoping that was an acceptable entry. "Hospitality informed me that I was to report this morning."

  The bow seemed to amuse the director. She tilted her head, acknowledging the respect offered.

  It was the other woman, however, who approached. Her pale-beige uniform seemed too soft for her severe features. The light color offset pitch-black hair pulled tightly back into a bun.

  Not a single hair out of place.

  "Have you brought a copy of your license?"

  "Yes, um…" She hesitated.

  "Ramsey, Kaylin Ramsey." The woman stood with her shoulders back, her posture punctuating her command.

  But she wasn't the director. Ramsey might be able to take command, but command was the director's by right, and Aura Kazamitiru knew how to wield its power. That she allowed this woman to take charge made Tamarja wonder what position she held.

  The director’s youthful-looking face and figure indicated she had started re-animation therapy early, perhaps as early as her mid-twenties.

  Tamarja activated her ear jack and pulled her stylus out of her pocket. She called up the menu and transmitted her documentation to Ramsey and, on a whim, to the director herself. Only Ramsey acknowledged the receipt of her files.

  "We find ourselves short on shuttle pilots. You came highly recommended to us, though your education has been brief." Ms. Ramsey raised an eyebrow in her direction.

  Tamarja struggled to keep calm. They can't know I'm a prisoner. Yohzad promised they wouldn't know. "I was educated on Bregarlos, a program at the flight school sponsored by Manitac. Instead of studying the full program, you train specifically to serve…"

  "Manitac. Yes, we know, and it concerns us."

  "I'm not sure I understand."

  "Serving the main corporate body is one thing. Your duties are limited to flying. Here, we're short staffed in many areas. Though you've been hired as the director's personal pilot, you'll also be required, as schedules permit, to shuttle passengers from the spaceport to various parts of Dawn's Landing. A hospitality hostess may or may not be available to assist. The passengers will have questions, and you'll need to have answers—from the crops we grow to the newest terraforming technology we've developed. At all times, you must remember you serve AuRaKaz."

  Tamarja winced. She'd never thought of herself as the sociable type. Manitac hadn't allowed her the opportunity to be social at all, but she hadn't exactly rebelled against the isolation. She thought of Jita, whose natural talent for holding a conversation and putting people at ease made it all look so easy. Perhaps she should take lessons from the hostess?

  "You have experience with defensive flying?"

  "Defensive…er, no. I can't say that I have. It wasn't part of Manitac's flight program."
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  "You'll need to learn."

  For a planet that's considered near paradise, they sure seemed heavy-handed with security. Tamarja held her tongue lest she give Ramsey a taste of her own rudeness.

  One red brow rising, the director put her glass down. "You'll have to forgive my adjutant. She overstates our vulnerability out here on the rim."

  The director actually spoke to her. Tamarja gratefully diverted her attention from the uptight Ramsey.

  "Necessary measures," Ramsey insisted.

  The director merely nodded, acknowledging the dissenting opinion. "Perhaps, but we can't be too overt with our security. We've avoided trouble thus far by our discretion, not by advertising our defensive posture."

  She smiled at Tamarja, but Tamarja did not mistake the smile for an intimate gesture of newfound friendship. "I'm taking a big chance with you. Do not let me down."

  The director turned back to the brilliant vista.

  "You'll have the rest of today to settle yourself. Your duties will start first thing tomorrow morning." Ramsey said. "I'm transmitting your security clearance to the roof of Facility Prime, where you'll find the director's shuttle. You'll also have access to all our other facilities. We have a busy calendar. A trade conference begins in five days. The delegates will begin to arrive in three. I suggest you use your time to familiarize yourself with all that Dawn's Landing has to offer, both recreationally and economically.

  "This planet has a great future ahead of it, possibly in the tourist industry. You need to ensure that our guests see the natural beauty we have under our feet. They may want to exploit our natural resources, but they will also understand that we will not turn Dawn's Landing into another industrial wasteland like Bregarlos."

  The director turned their way again, but only enough to show her profile. "I believe a guided tour would be the fastest, if not the most efficient way for you to learn." She tapped her finger at the edge of her finely outlined lips, deep in consideration. "Ramsey will find someone to escort you around, show you the area."